He grinned, laughed in a comforting manner, and said it was normal. Said there was nothing wrong with my heart.

“Bitch Dependency” he called it:

A bleeding scar created after having that silk-smooth red carpet pulled from under your feet and hitting your face smack on the floor.

The biggest problem isn’t getting hurt, – the doctor went on – it’s being unprepared. Feeling the carpet shake a bit doesn’t give you enough time to foretell what’s to come. Not being able to do so leaves you in doubt and completely vulnerable.

Next thing you know you’re patching your forehead from the fall with one hand and trying to clutch your slippery pulsating heart with the other. Let me tell you: It pains. Making you wish it had never happened.

There isn’t really any cure for it and preventing it can be quite hard. Like a flu, it has to be transmitted by other people, usually those close to you, usually those that have the power to somehow affect your feelings and state of mind.

Women portrayed as “significant others” have commonly been identified as the cause of this pathology, but it has been reported to affect both sexes. When men are the cause though, the name remains unchanged. Be it because you’re dependent on a bitch or because you’re the bitch for being dependent.

There’s not much I can do except prescribe you this bottle of time. All you have to do is swallow it with a glass of truth and wait. It should taste like shit, but it works. What you do though, once you leave this office, is none of my business. I’ve seen patients drinking, some frantically searching for someone else to occupy the void, while others develop a tendency towards sharp razors and lofty skyscrapers.

Time is a treatment, not a cure. Be warned that side effects are involved and it helps to not poke the wound. Scars can’t form unless you leave them be and the more you play with them, the more they bleed and hurt. On the other hand, though, I know, touching the wound is not masochism, but rather a way to feel human.

It’s a process. In the beginning you were fearful of treading that imaginary red carpet of yours. Carefully, though, you stepped forward. Little by little you started walking down the path. Being surprised in such unexpected manner can stun anyone, but now you need to apply the reverse effect. Get up and start walking back. Some say, the quicker the better, but honestly, there’s no point in rushing it.

As for the side effects I mentioned, they vary. Thoughtful depression, extreme rage, and psychotic humor are just some I can think of. None of them feel as something you normally would, so you know it’s part of the treatment.

The problem is some people are affected by these side effects and end up hurting other people. It’s as if you were to become just as rotten as the person who made you come here in the first place. Heed my words, this isn’t healthy. Struggle to become someone better, not as rotten as whoever scarred you. The world definitely could use people who didn’t hold grudges and hatred in their torn hearts.

If you do choose to go against my advice, I won’t stop you. You won’t be the only one to do this and frankly, whoever you hurt becomes my next patient. Unethical to some extent, but it does pay the bills. Keeps the business running.

“The Scar Cycle” he called it.

Now please sign this waiver. Once you cross that door, what you do is none of my concern. Follow my instructions and you’ll do fine, otherwise, good luck.

I couldn’t think straight at all. Her words echoed in my mind and in no way they seemed to help. They were in fact the opposite; the reason of my torment and why my strength slowly left my muscles. The soft seductive voice that controlled my thoughts left me confused. I wasn’t pissed. I wasn’t angry. I was at her mercy when I shouldn’t be. With just a few words she made me stare in awe and conclude there was no other way of the describing all those years we spent together. It wasn’t a yes or a no. It was just a dubious response that could mean a sincere “of course” or an ironic “hell no”. Call me naive, but it left me harmless and made me feel helpless.

The agonizing part develops like a child in its womb. The essence of the pain is the doubt. An uncertainty that drives your mind through a never ending torture.

The knife’s blade felt cold.

It stabbed straight into my heart. Half-in and half-out always twitching and turning making the pain constantly remain. You’d think your senses would fade after a while, but they don’t. The knife hurts just as much in the mind, body, and soul.

The constant debate whether you’re right or wrong; whether you know the answer or not; whether there might be hope…or not. Almost as if you unwillingly wanted to grasp insanity.

My damsel…

She could’ve meant yes.

But then her words would contradict themselves.

I bet she lied. She lied and did it sarcastically.

That bitch…

You’ll easily switch between two absurd points of view with relative ease. Then you’ll resort to logic and none of it will make sense, because later you’ll conclude logic is useless when it comes to feelings.

The hole just gets deeper and deeper. The rabbit has fooled you into his trap and not even Alice seems to be part of this wonderland. Light and hope seem distant and soon turn into a speckle of illusion. A mirage of the dumb…and that means you.

After hours of mental collision and internal conflict your soul is where your heart should be, your logic where your soul should be, and your heart torn apart.

Few understood the process I went through and even less understood why I did it. They knew I wasn’t strong enough to overcome the obstacles and even more to conquer the evil disguised in grey. They found my bones alone. No muscles, no tissue. All of it was drained from me until it hit the marrow.

From that point on I couldn’t see a thing. Darkness mixed with a faint image of old wood. Outside the capsule I could hear many lamenting. Commenting what society had lost. Those interested me not, but the ones who mentioned they had lost a friend caught my attention. A few sounded true and even less voices I could recognize. Those close and loyal enough said nothing at all, they showed themselves true to the friendship by providing the tombstone engraving.

“R.I.P. dear friend, for only in death there are no thoughts: Only certainty.”

If she was there, next to the coffin, I heard not a word. All the better because her silence would not be deciphered.

Darkness enveloped the night, revealing that the sun had set hours ago. The moonlight, on the other hand, illuminated the huge Victorian garden and allowed only few shadows to form on the grass. Next to a large apple tree, two pale corpses lie down beneath the leave filled branches and talk to each other.

“So we have the night for ourselves?” asked intuitively the male figure.

“Not really, but all we’ve got to do is keep a lookout on the mansion. It’s not that bad” the young girl’s speech evaded her friend’s intentions.

“I think Paul can handle himself. It’s not like he needs two babysitters.”

“I have my doubts” her lips touched the edge of the man’s lips as she began to get up. “When we get back, we’ll start from here”.

Salem’s smile was hypnotizing. There was no need for her to offer a helping hand, as he quickly picked up the pace. Both of them clambered the tree, moving form branch to branch.

A larger branch awaited them at the top of the tree and though not comfortable it seemed to be strong enough. Both Julius and Salem sat down next to each other. Past the gardens and below the brightly lit moon awaited an old Victorian mansion. The sight was ideal.

“Do you think it’ll be long?” his pale skin reflected the moonlight as he spoke.

“How should I know, Julius? Do you even remember your first time?” Salem’s answer exhaled sarcasm.

“You’re not serious?” Julius’ eyes squinted, “It was a long time ago. With you.” The corner of his lips formed a faint smile.

In silence, both Julius and Salem, searched the old mansion windows with their eyes for any sign of movement. In spite of the vines and plants that crawled upon the wooden structure, the moon gave off a white light that aided the inspection. Plants and weeds intertwined, paving a green contorted path all the way to the long forgotten garden.

Not caring whether Salem was in the mood to talk or not, Julius spoke. “I don’t get it.” His statement sounded natural and naïve, as if he were confronting an impossible conundrum. “How come the mansion hasn’t ever been under investigation? It works and has worked perfectly for us, but I find it unlikely that parents have never suspected of their young daughters coming to a place like this for privacy.”

“My father did. Don’t you remember?” the irony was inherent to Salem’s words.

Julius stared at Salem. His eyes cursed her in advance, sparing him the need of actually opening his mouth.

“That was-” his sentence was interrupted midway through.

“I know, many years ago. Still, we’re lucky the police mistook him for a crazy person. Since the property’s been bought though, now they need a warrant to get in.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Someone could be on our trail, looking for us.” Julius’ insecurity made his words tremble.

“Not likely.” Salem sounded as detective ready to explain all the logical steps to her conclusion. “We don’t make mistakes. We don’t draw attention to ourselves. Every time a couple enters the house, someone needs to be on the lookout outside. You think I enjoy spending my time here? Besides it’s not like we hav-”

A female scream slit the night’s silence and froze Julius and Salem in place.

“Up until now” Julius quickly offered payback to all of Salem’s sarcasm.

“Paul…” Salem growled as she stared at the house and her eyes quickly twitched from side to side in search of him.

“Hey, relax. He’s inexperienced and it’s normal to make mistakes.” Julius sounded like a father protecting his own.

“And from the looks of it, he has no idea ofwhat he’s doing.” Snapped Salem as her eyes still searched for a sign of Paul.

“You worry too much. There’s nothing wrong.”

“But if there is…I’ll kill him. Again.”

Julius was tired of convincing Salem otherwise. He knew she had a point, but there was no need to overreact. The silence returned, this time creating tension and heightening the tingling in their bodies. Both of them cautiously observe every movement in the nearby area.

Julius slowly places his left hand on Salem’s shoulder. Mistaking it for a gesture of affection, she shrugs. He grabs her attention again by pointing to something in the distance with his other hand. Salem’s eyes open widely and her pupils dilate.

Julius lightly Salem on the back, waking her up from a frightened state. He positions himself, ready to jump, and she does the same. Both of them knew the faint alternating red and blue lights in the distance demanded drastic action.

“I knew he would screw up.” Salem had returned to her normal self.

Under the guise of the night, the couple quickly left the large tree. With one leap half the distance to the mansion was covered. Through the shadows, concealed in darkness, Julius and Salem ran until they reached the mansion’s main entrance. With little time to spare they leapt onto the canopy above the front doors and crept inside through the second floor windows.

“Paul!” Julius’ voice easily made its way through the structure of empty rooms, long hallways, and rotten wood.

“Here! In the room.” A distant quavering male voice answered to the call.

The wooden floor barely had time to creak and the couple ran to the room’s entrance. Reaching the open door, both of them assessed the scenario that awaited them. A big and old suite filled with the stench of decadent bricks and oak. The broken window handle revealed the dust and mold clotted on the glass and its corners. Everything seemed forgotten and left aside, except for the bed.

A huge bed structure made of marble stood in the middle of the room. Its surface shone in the dim light and both the sheets on the mattress and on the canopy smelled like fabric softeners. Above the sheets, however, lay a dormant naked body. The lady’s curves accentuated the lust in every man, but her skin seemed to be gradually loosing its blush and its life.

“Is she alive?” Paul was still putting his pants back on when Salem demanded answers.

“It depends on what you consider alive.” Replied Paul with a grin.

“Why did she scream?” Julius continued the interrogation while Salem approached the body.

“I don’t know. Everything was fine.” Paul retraced his steps, as if searching for a mistake “We were kissing, hugging each other, and all of a sudden her expression changed. She stopped smiling and screamed. That’s when I bit.”

“You are stupid” Julius already had all the answers at the tip of his tongue “She saw your teeth. But I bet that perverted look of yours didn’t make things any easier.”

“She’s got a light pulse. Should wake up in a few hours, but we can’t stay here.” Informs Salem, strictly as a coroner would.

“Why?” Paul’s innocence takes hold of his lines.

“Because your inexperience drew unwanted attention.” Julius’s authority was of a father’s and a general, at the same time “Grab the sheets, I’ll carry the girl. Salem, you lead.”

Paul pulls the bed sheets with one effortless tug, Salem opens the old broken window with one precise kick, and Julius places the girl’s body over his shoulder with ease. As they approach the window, Julius identifies the deep mark of two canine teeth on the girl’s neck. Two nearly identical, symmetrical and equidistant holes with no sign of blood or bruises.

“Nevertheless, Paul, it was a nice bite. Not bad for your first time” Julius smiles in approval.

All three figures exit through the window and in an instant leave the mansion. It is deemed lifeless, as it has been for the past century, when perplexed police officers search it for clues. “A prank call”, they conclude as they exit the property and leave the place as it always has been, camouflaged from civilization.

Like this:

We desired to be together. I did with my entirety, but she did only half. A part of her wanted to be with me and a part didn’t. Her words descended as cruel speech from a father upon his child. My inside ached, but I understood. I respected Decay and it would feel as a betrayal on my behalf.

As I treaded back to sulk into the darkness, my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Nevertheless, I was rescued. The five steps that felt like kilometers were interrupted by the calling of my name. I turned and faced back. I couldn’t deny her voice.

It was unexpected, yet perfect.

Our lips touched.

Thoughts left my head and only a calm peaceful tide could be felt. Rejuvenating.

At the end, we knew words would not help at anything. We had already been careless for exposing ourselves in public, but it seemed worth it.

I smiled. She smiled back.

Then her eyes felt empty and her body fell.

Loss

Half of Decay’s sword had already pierced her from behind.

I drew my sword and as a reaction his lackeys arrived.

I used the opportunity to swing my blade. In a swift movement he retrieved his from her body and the blood escaped from the wound dragging her life with it.

The scene held my eyes in place almost long enough to join her. The high pitched swing of the blade woke me up and I evaded just in time. He held no grudge at attacking and drew a second sword from his belt. My avenging chances were slimming.

His men approached as well, but they were no match. As always, stupid enough to follow and stupid enough to fight. They lacked the intellect and the ability to truly assess the situation and confirmed the definition of disposable henchmen.

With one thrust I cut open three chests. Their leather armor was red and prevented much of the blood from being seen. An old technique to diminish the opponent’s moral. Luckily the falling of bodies and screams of agony easily substituted the strategy.

Decay seemed to laugh. I could not be sure. It was dark and he wanted me dead. I had no idea a kiss could change that much.

I wanted to swing, but my arm faltered. It hurt. It bled. Decay had somehow hit me.

My thoughts were in my way. They kept me out of focus. Where was her body?

Decay lost his balance. Holding two swords did not help regain the standing position. He tripped backwards, unfortunately on her body, and fell helpless.

One blade on the floor and the other held with both arms. He cowered. He acted as a child, upon the sight of a hungry bear, would.

But the bear had no words. The bear’s heart ached. The bear’s soul felt void. The bear wanted blood.

With one hit his sword flew far away. He held his clenched fists up and thought they would protect him. I took no chances. I cut them off.

I dropped tears from my eyes and the sword from my hand. I dropped my closed fist on his face. A successive session of blows and punches at first hit the flesh. Screams accompanied most of them and fueled my rage.

Some time later they stopped and I started to feel the hard and impenetrable tarmac. It seemed over.

I got up and searched for her. Tainted red and with a pale base she laid there on the floor. Back punctured and without a soul. I held her next to me. I hugged her hopping comfort would come out of it.

Decay knew everything, which meant he was a spy. A public enemy dressed in red armor portraying the eagle emblem. A traitor to the nation. And I, a traitor to a friendship.